


High Hope

by fuzzyalarmclock



Category: The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyalarmclock/pseuds/fuzzyalarmclock
Summary: A series of ficlets to flesh out the scenes between Diane and Kurt in season one.





	1. 1x01

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the dialogue comes straight from the episodes and I'm simply fleshing out the scenes we saw to develop a larger arc. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and dialogue from the show are property of the Kings.

Maybe when our hearts realign

Maybe when we've both had some time 

I'm gonna see you there 

”High Hope”, Glen Hansard 

*

_ “You’re poison. No firm will hire you right now.” _

Diane felt like she had been stumbling around the world for the past twenty-four hours, searching for any small niche in which she could grasp onto something, scanning the horizon for any port in the storm. When she nearly trips over her ex-husband on her doorstep, she tries not to read too much into it. If the universe is trying to suddenly have a sense of humor, it isn’t doing a great job, but her heart jolts in her chest when she sees him, followed by a wave of nausea when she remembers what they are to each other now.

Kurt clearly doesn’t feel the same, because the corners of his mouth quirk into a small smile as he says, “You want a divorce? Your accountant called.” 

She doesn’t have a choice but to invite him inside. She can feel his gaze on her as she unlocks the front door of her apartment, her beautiful apartment, which she will soon have to vacate. Her mind is still spinning from the events of the day, before she realizes Kurt is waiting for an explanation. “Do you want a drink?” Kurt shakes his head, taking a seat on the couch. “Do you mind if I make myself something?” At this point, her nerves are so frayed, she’s not sure whether even alcohol will soothe them. 

“No, go ahead.” His answer comes easily and for a moment, she’s envious of him. His life is still in tact and despite their history, he’s always treated her as if there is no space, no hurt between them. She knows she appears strong, but sometimes she wishes she felt as sure as he does.

After pouring herself a scotch, she tries to explain why she got in touch with him (or rather why her accountant did.) “Without a divorce, Kurt, your finances will suffer from the same, uh, from the same thing.” She struggles with even putting a sentence together. In hindsight, she wishes they weren't doing this tonight. She already feels raw, vulnerable, and exposed, without sitting across from the man she loved, the man she married, who had in turn, broken her heart. “It’s about money, not about us.” 

Kurt looks at her for a long moment and she knows he’s wondering why she seems so on edge, so unlike herself. He leans forward. “What do you want?” 

“No,” she shakes her head firmly. “This is in your lap.” 

“I didn’t leave you.” And that, right there, is exactly what she didn’t want to hear. She should have known he would bring it back to them, to what happened. She doesn’t have time for his arguments, not tonight. After she found out, after he admitted it, they spent what felt like days talking (and yelling) in circles. She was firm in her conviction that they each needed space, he was firm that space would drive a wedge further between them. She told him he had already succeeded in doing that. Her opinion on the matter hasn’t changed.

“Actually, you did. You slept with your student, so.” As shitty as she feels, she is determined not to give him an inch. She can tell by his eyes, by the way they are soft when he looks at her, studies her, that he is trying to figure out the best way to do this, the best way to take a mile when she has only given him an inch. “Okay, my accountant said my bank account will be frozen. A divorce will save your account and just memorialize what we’re doing now.”

“Which is?”

Diane almost rolls her eyes. He knows what they’re doing. “Living apart.” 

“How are you?” There it is, the simplest question with the most room for error. As much as Diane is convinced of Kurt’s own machinations, she knows he means it. He really does want to know how she is. He always has. 

“I’m great,” she says falsely. “I’m broke and out of a job, but hey, bad things happen to good people.” She tries to shrug it off, but he can tell it’s not as casual as she makes it sound.

His eyebrow raises. “You’re out of a job?”

“Yes, I signed my exit agreement and they…” Her chin wobbles and tears prick her eyes. “...they won’t. My god, this is my life.” The reality of everything starts to hit her. Before, it was just one thing. It was her money, but she thought maybe, with her connections, she could at least insure her income. But that hadn’t been the case. She was poison. “It’s all..it’s gone. I’m losing my apartment. I’m unemployable, how is that possible?” Suddenly she’s angry at how swiftly everyone had turned their backs on her. “How is my life so fucking meaningless?”

Through her tears, Kurt is half shocked at her outburst. Even with him, she so rarely let herself be openly emotional. He moves towards her, sitting next to her, his hand warm on her knee. “It isn’t,” he tries to assure her.

“How can you work so hard every single day of your life and have nothing to show for it. Not a friend.”

“I’m a friend.” She can see he thinks this is true. He  _ wants _ it to be true. It almost hurts more than everything else in her day, her body wanting to give itself over to him, her mind wanting to believe the words he says, but she can’t let herself fall back there. 

“Kurt,” she says softly, almost too gently. “I feel bad enough already. I don’t want to be responsible for your going broke. Divorce me.” She stands on wobbling legs and forces herself to walk into the kitchen for a glass of water. She knows him well enough to know he’s not going to leave, not when she’s just spilled her guts to him, after months of silence. Diane can feel him behind her as she’s filling up her glass, cuts her eyes across the room to his as she takes a sip. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her from the doorway. “How are you?” She finally manages to ask, suddenly feeling impolite. 

“Well,” he shrugs. “My wife just asked me for a divorce, so I’ve been better.”

It’s not fair. Him using that word.  _ Wife _ . It had shocked her to hear her accountant say husband. Even though she had been the one to decide to get married, she never really thought of him as anything but Kurt. He was her rock no matter the label. She misses that. She misses them, when things were good. She wants to ask him what went wrong, why he did what he did. That was all she had wanted to know, all those months ago, what made him do it? It was so out of character, so completely foreign to her. She simply couldn’t wrap her mind around it, still couldn’t. She runs a hand over her mouth. “Why?” Her voice is quiet, barely audible. At first, she isn’t sure if he even heard her at all. They both stand there for so long, not moving. She’s barely breathing, but her heart is pumping, her blood pulsing through her veins. 

“I still loved you. It had nothing to do with-”

“You didn’t answer the question, Kurt.” Her voice is strong now. Courtroom volume.

“I hadn’t seen you in months,” he shoots back, before pausing, modulating his tone. “We were married, but it didn’t feel like it. I wanted us to be more. I thought getting married would help us get there, but somehow it made it worse. At least for me.” He runs a hand through his hair and then looks straight at her, making sure she hears this. “It was an error in judgment. I knew it as soon as it happened. I take full responsibility and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Diane.”

She holds his gaze, but feels her eyes flooding with tears for the second time that night and glances down at the floor. “I think...you should go, Kurt.”

“Yeah,” he says and she thinks he’s acquiescing. “I think you might need someone to keep you company tonight.” He clears his throat. “I don’t mean...I’ll sleep on the couch, but you...You had a bad day, Diane.” 

_ I’ve had a bad 18 months _ , she thinks. After spending the day fighting for survival, she wants nothing more to sink into her bed and sleep. She doesn’t have the strength to argue with him. “Okay,” she whispers. 

Slowly, she climbs the stairs and she can hear him washing the few dishes in the kitchen. After brushing her teeth, combing out her hair, and dressing in her softest pajamas, she pulls out a few blankets for him and carries them downstairs. He’s nestled into the chair diagonally across from the fireplace. It was always his favorite spot when he was here, when they were together. She pauses in the doorway to the living room, his back to her, giving her time to really look at him. His hair is a little longer, almost shaggy, and his facial hair has grown out too. She’s never seen him so unkempt, but she tries not to assume it has anything to do with her. Before her brain can get ahead of itself, she steps out of the doorway and presents him with the blankets. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

She nods, stepping back, but not wanting to go. “I think there may still be a few of your clothes around, if you need something to sleep in.” 

He arches an eyebrow at her. “You have things of mine?” 

A half smile crosses her face. “I believe so, yes.” A particular t-shirt she may have slept in for months after he’d gone. Months after she kicked him out. She goes back upstairs to fetch his clothes. As she passes by one of her jewelry boxes, she thinks of the wedding ring she tucked inside a few months before. It was the hardest part to cast off. 

*

Even with Kurt asleep on the couch downstairs, she tosses and turns, worrying over her future. She wishes she could call Will. She imagines where he would be by now and knows he would never hesitate to help her, to take her in as a partner. Well past two a.m., she finally gives up on trying to sleep and turns the light back on, pulling out her laptop. It occurs to her that maybe she should search for opportunities outside Chicago. 

A little while later, immersed in job postings and firm research and the cost of moving, she hears his weight on the stairs. He appears in the doorway, the light from her bedside table falling across his face. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “Did I wake you?” 

He shakes his head. “No,” his voice is gravelly. “Couldn’t sleep.” He crosses towards her, his brow furrowing when he sees her looking at a firm in New York. “You moving?” She hasn’t told him about the house in Provence, her retirement plans, now dashed. Before she has a chance to respond, he presses a hand, softly, gently, to the crown of her head. It’s the same gesture he used to do when he found her awake late at night, working. Usually it was followed by him pressing a kiss to her forehead. She knows the kiss won’t happen now. He doesn’t wait for her answer, just turns to go. 

“Kurt,” she calls and her voice is low, her breath uneven. His brow is furrowed when he turns to look at her. His eyes searching her face for an answer. She closes her laptop and slides it off the bed, onto the floor. He comes around the other side of the bed, sitting down on top of the covers, hesitant at first, but when she doesn’t object, sliding in next to her. His weight on the mattress makes her close her eyes. She’s holding her breath. His hand finds her cheek, the pads of his fingers rough from manual labor on the ranch and the cold, dry Chicago winters. Her breath hitches in her throat, so loud she knows he hears. The heat of him draws closer. She resists licking her lips. Finally, slowly, his mouth finds hers, his hand sliding across her cheek again, pulling her closer, needing to taste her fully. Something unclenches in her chest. Whether it’s from joy or pain, she can’t tell. He pulls away slowly, his breath against her cheek, his fingers tracing down her neck. 

“Diane,” he says lowly. “Open your eyes.” 

She does, finding him there in the soft light. It’s not a dream. She reaches for him, her fingers grazing the soft fabric of his t-shirt, the same one she slept in for so many months, as she pulls him back to her. This time his hand goes farther, sliding down her side, landing at her hip, where it stays with a squeeze. 

Neither of them are strangers to this, finding solace in the heat of their bodies. They used it as a band aid often during their relationship and to Diane, it’s obvious that’s what it is now as well. It starts out slow and languorous, trying to feel each other out, half an apology, half a mistake, but quickly turns more frenzied. Diane straddles his lap, her hips grinding against his as he tangles a hand in her hair. They continue like this, hurried, hungry for each other, and she’s fine with it, turning this into a fuck instead of anything more serious. 

It’s only when Kurt is inside of her and slows, tracing a long line down her spine with his fingers, his hand coming around to cup her breast as she moves against him, does she begin to understand. His movements turn sensuous and reverent against her faster pace. His eyes flick up to rest on hers and the intensity of his gaze nearly brings her to a halt. 

Before she can help it, stop it, anything, there are tears threatening at the corners of her eyes and he’s reaching up to touch her face, his thumb making soothing strokes across her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says gently, pulling her towards him, tucking her against his shoulder. “Do you believe me?” She isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for this, tonight, or the mistakes he made before. But she nods against him, unable to say anything. They lie together quietly for a few minutes. “You’re going to be okay,” he finally says. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but if anyone is going to get through this, it’s going to be you.”

Even in the midst of everything, his words mean more to her than anyone else’s. “Thank you,” she whispers. She knows she will have to deal with the reality of their situation in the morning, but for now, it’s nice to have the one person she’s come to rely on here beside her.   


*

Hearing his breath the next morning, calm and even beside her, jolts her into consciousness quickly as she remembers the previous evening’s events. Her stomach sinks and she rolls out of bed carefully. She ties her robe tightly around her middle and heads downstairs, where she passes by the rumpled blankets on the couch, his boots set carefully in the entryway. She starts the coffee, hoping it will clear some of the cobwebs in her mind, and help her to think clearly about the man currently sleeping in her bed. 

Despite the risk of having his own accounts frozen, she knows he won’t file for divorce. Despite his transgressions, Kurt had been the optimist in their relationship, always hoping and looking for a way in with her. Maybe she had been the problem. The unavailable one and that was why he had strayed. She has tried to figure out his motives for months and his answer last night still doesn’t tell her everything she wants to know. Was it something she did that made him cheat?

And she knows, she knows she’s still not in a place, emotionally, personally, where she’s prepared to fix this. It’s not just her.  _ They _ aren’t. Last night is proof of that. They would rather fall into the comfort of the physical than do the real, hard work it’s going to take to get them back to a good emotional place where they can trust each other, start again. 

She hears him behind her, can feel the heat of his body as he draws near. He’s about to circle his arms around her and draw her into him, but she turns, spinning out of his grasp. His brow furrows and she offers him a cup of coffee. But he takes the hint, not reaching out to touch her as they make their way around each other in the kitchen.

He offers to make eggs and she realizes she doesn’t have anywhere to rush off to. The office, sure, but she’s not taking on any new work. All there is to do is pack up her things. Depressing, that a 40 year career can end in a whimper. 

When they’re sitting at the table, both of them on their second cup of coffee, he clears his throat. “Do you really want a divorce?” 

She thinks about it for a moment and tries to answer as honestly as possible. “I don’t know.” She takes a breath, pushing the crumbs of her toast and eggs around the plate with a fork. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him watching her, waiting. “Right now I don’t feel like I know anything about anything. But I want to protect you.” 

Kurt objects, as she knew he would. “I don’t need protecting.”

She puts a hand on his arm to calm him. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” she says softly. “Let me at least be in control of doing  _ something _ . I need to have one thing work out, Kurt.” 

He’s turning it over, but his answer isn’t at all what she expects. “What if the one thing was us?” 

She stares at him, open-mouthed, before she finds her breath and her voice. “I can’t...we can’t.”

“Last night would say otherwise.” A cocky half smile crosses his face and she has the urge to hit him. 

“No,” she shakes her head firmly, but her voice wavers. “I’m not ready. I can’t do this right now, not with the rest of my life upside down. And I don’t know when I’ll be ready. When  _ we _ will be ready.”

The smile dissolves quickly from his face, his expression growing grim. “I thought...never mind.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. He stands quickly, clearing their plates. She knows she’s upset him, but she doesn’t have the patience to coddle him and find out what he was going to say. She gets the sense that last night meant different things to them. To her, it didn’t mean everything was magically going to be okay between the two of them. 

She still remembers being in the courtroom, her throat constricted, Kurt unable to look her in the eye, a tiny voice in the back of her mind reciting  _ it can’t be true, it can’t be true, it can’t be _ . 

But it was. 


	2. 1x05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever happened to whispering sweet nothings into my ear?” 
> 
> “I’m pretty sure I’ve only whispered dirty things into your ear, so don’t get any ideas.”

The firm’s receptionist gives him directions to Diane’s office, saying if Marissa, Diane’s assistant is out, he can simply knock on her door. But when he arrives at what he assumes is the hallway to Diane’s office, a young woman with dark curls sits at a desk. She’s conferring with a lawyer, but they both look up as Kurt approaches. “Hi, are you here to see Diane?” the younger woman asks.

He nods. “I am.”

“Okay, can you give me a minute?” she gestures to a chair he hadn’t noticed. He sits, the gift for Diane balanced on his legs, but secured with a firm hand. When the lawyer walks away, Marissa looks up at him again. “Hi, I’m Marissa. Should I tell Diane you’re here, Mr…” she trails off, searching for a name.

“Kurt McVeigh,” he offers. “But, actually.” He feels awkward about Marissa announcing his presence. What if Diane says she doesn’t have time to see him? “Do you mind if I slip back?”

“I can’t really let you do that. I mean, you look trustworthy and everything, it’s not that. It’s building security. Part of my job is to-“

He interrupts. “Listen, I’m Diane’s husband and I was trying to surprise her.”

“Her husband?” Marissa’s eyes widen. “I’ve never even-“ She takes in the present he’s holding. “That’s so sweet,” she nearly coos. “I won’t ruin the surprise, but I’ll have to walk you back.”

“That’s fine. Let’s go.” He’s already nervous about seeing Diane without having to navigate around her gatekeeper.

Thankfully Marissa remains silent as she leads him to Diane’s office. She’s on the phone, but Marissa doesn’t seem to care or notice. “Diane? Someone is here to see you and he has a present.”

“Uh, Danny, can I call you back? Okay, good.” Diane hangs up, a surprised look on her face as she takes him in. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want me to stay and take notes?” Marissa’s voice startles both of them. Diane breaks their gaze first, glancing over at Marissa.

“No, thank you.” She manages to say politely. Marissa leaves, but not before glancing between the two of them. Kurt has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.  

“She’s…chatty.” He finally says when she’s gone.

“She is that,” Diane agrees. “So, how are you?

“Good, you?”

“Good.”

“You called?” He asks.

“Oh.” She looks as if she’s trying to place what day it is and when she might have called him last.” Since she asked him for a divorce, they’ve talked, but he hasn’t seen her. “Uh, no. When?” Diane was always a terrible liar and he knows her well enough to know she isn’t one to reach out unless she has a reason.

“Last night. I picked up but you hung up.” He knows getting her to admit she missed him is a long shot, but seeing her name come up on his phone had in turn made him realize how much he missed her and now here he is.

“No, no, that must have been an accidental dial. I’m, uh, I think my phone is…” She chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I was going to call you anyway.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he did need her help. “Um. I have a favor. I’ve agreed to give a speech on ballistics to the police union.”

“Really?” Diane raises an eyebrow “Well, that doesn’t sound like you.”

“Yes, it isn’t.” She laughs and he hasn’t forgotten what a good feeling it is, making her laugh. He pulls the speech out of his pocket. “I was hoping that you could read it.”

“Sure,” she agrees much quicker than he expected. “Is tonight okay?”

“Yes. I have to give it tomorrow.” He feels sheepish about waiting until the last minute to ask, but he’s been struggling with it for days and it didn’t occur to him until last night that she would be the perfect person to give him honest feedback. “And, thank you.” He sets the present down on her desk. He pauses in the hallway, glancing back at her, but her gaze is already on the gift. He chuckles to himself as he passes Marissa, who gives him a little wave.

*

Kurt is getting ready to go to bed, resigned to the fact that Diane forgot, when his phone rings. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” she says. “Sorry it’s so late, but I read your speech.”

“It’s okay if you don’t have time.”

“No, no, no, I have time,” she insists. “I mean, if you do. I have some notes if you still want to get together to go over them.” Now she’s saying it to him, it sounds like a perfectly obvious plan he cooked up. Of course Diane was the person he thought of to read his speech, because he wants to spend as much time with her as possible, and it’s clear she won’t actually agree to go on a date with him, so he is left searching for semi-desperate ways to see her.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

“I’m actually still at the office,” she admits sheepishly. “Do you want to come here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Long day?”

She chuckles. “Oh, always. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

*

The trip to Diane’s office from the elevator takes exponentially less time without her assistant standing guard. When he knocks gently on the glass, Diane is sitting at her desk, looking at something on her laptop, her elbow on the desk, a giant ring glinting on her middle finger, a glass of wine by her side. “Hi,” she smiles when she looks up. “Come in.”

“Is Marissa gone for the night or is she going to come by and offer to take notes?”

 She laughs. “She really liked you. Said you were quiet and polite. Just her type.”

“Fantastic,” he replies grumpily, but can feel the blush rise in his cheeks. He stands awkwardly between her desk and the couch, not sure where to sit.

“Oh, here,” she hands him the speech which she’s marked up, before moving over to the cabinet to grab another glass and a fresh bottle of wine. He notices the box which holds the gun sitting alongside her wine glasses. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says off-handedly as she opens the bottle.

“Really?” He asks incredulously, taking in her scrawled comments.

“It’s just technical,” she says simply. “You testify in court all the time and you make it understandable.”

“That’s an interrogatory in front of a jury of 12. This is me in front of 500 people.”

She looks over at him, surprised. “500? Whoa. Okay.” She sets down the wine glass in front of him and sits back in her chair, hers in her hand, her legs stretched out in front of her. He knows she kicked off her heels well before he arrived and he sees her suit jacket hanging over the back of a chair.  “Well, the subject is 3D technology in ballistics.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, correcting her. “The impact of interferometers on 3D renderings.”

“The subject is 3D technology in ballistics,” she repeats, gently but firmly. “And as far as I can tell, this is about the use of lasers to magnify imperfections on a bullet casing, right?”

“Yeah, using an interferometer to create…” He looks up to see Diane shaking her head and he relents, getting her point. “...Right.”

“And you can magnify a bullet casing up to two microns?”

“Yes.” He replies, impressed.

“Okay, and how small is that? Just give me a real world example. I mean, just talk to me.” She’s relaxed, but at the same time in her element. It’s been a long time since he’s seen her like this. “C’mon.” She scoots the wine glass towards him. “Take a sip. Tell me how small two microns are.”

He does as he’s told, picking up the glass. “Two microns are about 1/50th the width of a human hair.”

“Good. You just said something I understand. So start there. I mean, just take a single human hair and imagine you had a knife that could cut that hair into 50 thin slices.”

He has been struggling with the opening for this speech for weeks and she comes up with the best option in a couple of hours. No wonder he fell in love with her. She is smarter than him. “What else?”

“Did you drive here?”

He tries not to react to her question, not sure where this is going. “No,” he replies, a bit slowly. “A cab.”

“Good. Drink up.” She reaches over to take his glass and pour him more wine.

He chuckles. “Do I need to catch up?”

“A little bit,” she admits with a smile, moving along to the next paragraph. It’s close to midnight by the time they finish revising the speech. He’s got her laptop, typing up everything, and she’s sitting next to him on the couch, reminding him of what they said should go where. He still hasn’t made it all the way through his glass of wine, but her legs are distracting enough without alcohol being involved. “Great,” she exhales when he finishes up the notes.

“I’m going to email this to myself. Do you mind?” She tells him to go ahead and he tries to ignore the other emails in her inbox, but he notices several from a rental agency about apartment listings. “Thanks for doing this.” He feels like he’s thanked her a million times already, but he knows sometimes it takes repetition for Diane to really hear. “I’m sorry it was so last minute.”

“Well, seeing how you said yourself this is probably the only time you’ll do this, I figured it was worth it.” Now he doesn’t have the laptop in front of him, he’s struggling with where his gaze should fall. Diane doesn’t seem to notice. “Why the gun, though?”

He shrugs. “Something to remember me by, I guess.”

She chuckles. “You haven’t changed.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she tips her chin down for a second, looking at her nearly empty wine glass before her eyes meet his again. “You’re a constant in an ever-changing landscape. Right now, in this crazy world, that sounds pretty damn good.”

“I know we don’t really see eye to eye politically, but I wanted you to know, even I’ve noticed a shift. And not in a good way.”

She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. “It’s...honestly, before everything happened with the Rindell fund, I was thinking of moving to Europe.”

“ _What?_ ” Things have been strained between them, to say the least, but he at least thought she would mention a change this big to him. “When? Where?”  

“It wasn’t necessarily because of the political landscape here, but I was thinking about retiring and I wanted to get _away_. I was on vacation and I saw this perfect house in the countryside in France. It was beautiful. Flowers and that old yellow stone and rolling hills and farmland. You would have liked how peaceful it was.”

He’s only half listening because he’s still sitting there, agape. “Were you going to tell me any of this?”

“I would have, if the deal had gone through. But since all of my money was tied up in the fund, I couldn’t get anything for the down payment because it didn’t exist, so…” She gestures her hand in the air. Gone with the wind. Diane would be too if it hadn’t been for the Rindells. It makes him think about the fragility and fleetingness of everything. Even though he’s already lost her due to his own mistakes, he could have lost her all over again. 

He’s spent hours thinking about how if his indiscretion hadn’t come out in court, if had simply told Diane himself, they could have found a way through it, together. But now, knowing she was thinking about going to France, he’s not as sure about the stability of their relationship. His fear about the fragility of them, he realizes, is the same one which became real for Diane in a courtroom months ago.

“I...I think I’m still back on the moving to France part,” he admits. “Would you really have gone?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “I still think about it sometimes.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, what to say to any of it, really, except they just spent two hours working together without any fighting or sadness, and he knows it’s been several months since he last felt so content.

*

_How do you feel?_

_You didn’t have to come._

_I know I didn’t have to come._

_Thank you. It’s the last time I’m doing this._

_Just picture them all naked._

_You’ll like me even if I fuck up?_

_I will. Break a leg._

He knows his face gives away everything when she shows up for his speech. He specifically hadn’t asked her to come because it felt like something a supportive spouse would do, but she had chosen to on her own. Having her there gives him a sense of pride. Not just professionally, but personally too.

Afterwards, it’s easy to spot her in the crowd, but he knows he has a lot of comments and handshaking to do before he can get to her. While her presence is distracting, to say the least, it’s also comforting.

“Great,” she tells him when he’s finally done talking to everyone. “Really great. I mean, you didn’t rush. You made all your points comprehensible. I, uh-” He doesn’t need her praise. Her being there is enough. Before she can object, he pulls her in for a long kiss.

When he finally lets her go, Diane looks as shocked as when he kissed her the first time. Their first date. Dinner at the Westin.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says, his hand lingering on her shoulder.

She nods slightly, regaining her composure. “All right. Are you all done here?” Diane gestures to the auditorium, wondering if he needs to tell anyone he’s leaving.

“I’m good. Come on.” His hand lands at the small of her back as he leads her towards the doors.

Diane stops by the coat check to retrieve her coat. She eyes him as he stands there in his blazer. “Don’t you have a coat?”

He shakes his head. “I brought my vest, but it’s at the hotel.”

“Aren’t you freezing?” she asks as they step outside, the wind whipping around them dramatically, as if to prove a point.

He draws her into him again, dipping his head towards hers. “I can think of something else that would keep me warm.”

“Kurt!” She laughs, pushing him playfully. Everything has been so serious between the two of them for so long and he knows Diane has had a bad run lately, but over the last couple of days, her spirits seem buoyed, at least compared to the last time he saw her. He would like to think it’s because of his presence alone, but he knows she’s happy at her new firm and finding the work fulfilling. “Your speech really was great,” she tells him.

“Thanks.” As if on cue, a car pulls up in front of them.

Diane raises her eyebrows. “This is for you? I thought the police department was worried about budget cuts,” she jokes.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t on the department’s tab.” He says, opening the door for her.

Her face is aglow as he slides in next to her. He knows she’s taken car service plenty of times, so he doesn’t understand the delighted expression on her face until she leans in and whispers. “Did you plan this? I didn’t tell you I was coming.”

He’s almost forgotten this childlike, endearing side to her. He wants to lie to her and say he planned this whole romantic evening for the two of them without even knowing if she would come, but it wasn’t true. “I wasn’t sure if you would,” he says instead. “I wanted you to. I’m glad you did.”

She slides her hand into his and such a simple gesture nearly stops his heart. “I’m glad I did too.” He knows he has a lot to make up for, but after months of feeling like he’s the one always reaching out, the one always making the gestures, Diane showing up tonight is her way of meeting him there and it sounds silly, but holding his hand even more so. They’ve slept together since their separation, but it’s the little, intimate gestures he misses the most, like holding his hand or resting her head on his shoulder.

They go to a French restaurant downtown, which he swears they’ve been to before, but Diane doesn’t seem to remember it. She teases him for ordering a beer, but after spending the past couple days worried about his speech, he wants something that allows him to relax. Drinking red wine always makes him feel self-conscious, like he’s trying too hard. “Okay, you put up with me talking about microons and interferometers for the past 36 hours, so now it’s your turn.” He sets his glass down. “How are you doing?”

“You mean, am I still having emotional breakdowns about my career and money?” She asks, joking about the last time they saw each other. “The money is still the same.” Diane ducks her chin for a moment and he knows she’s still having a hard time. “But the job is good. Wonderful, actually. I got to bring Maia along and she’s fitting in beautifully. And Marissa is Eli Gold’s daughter. Do you remember Eli?” Kurt nods. “Anyway, she’s talkative, but so intelligent. She’s not going to be my assistant for long, I can tell she has grander ambitions. Good for her.”

It isn’t unusual of Diane to answer a question about herself while not really talking about herself at all. He knows she’s proud of the women she works with and mentors, but he really does want to know about her life.

“I know things are tricky for you financially right now, but you know-”

Diane holds up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Kurt, I know whatever you were about to say was well meaning and possibly very sweet, but I’m not looking for handouts.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“No, I know you didn’t.” Her knee bumps into his under the table, but she leaves her leg pressed against his. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He intends to end the evening after dinner. He really does. Well, dinner and a good night kiss, but she has a way of knowing exactly the right buttons to press. They shut down the restaurant and get a little carried away waiting for the car, which now they are making out in the back of like teenagers, before realizing the driver is waiting for directions. He finally tells him something vague about his hotel while Diane laughs into his collar. “No, no,” she insists. “Come to my place.” And gives the driver the address.

Kurt quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Are you sure?” It had been clear the last time he was there that she hadn’t exactly been pleased with herself in the morning and figured she would want to steer clear of personal territory as much as possible. She nods and trails a line of kisses along his jaw. “Diane,” he half moans. A firm hand on her wrist tells her he’s actually looking for an answer.

“It’s fine,” she says breathily. Off his doubtful look, “I promise.”

Then they’re out of the car and in the entryway to her apartment, Diane pressed up against the wall, her arms around his shoulders, as he wedges his knee between her legs, spreading them apart. It’s fast and heady and nothing like the last time. He’s embarrassed that he wants her again as soon as they get upstairs, but Diane just grins lasciviously at him and pulls him down on top of her.

“I guess it’s good we didn’t get that divorce,” he jokes as they’re lying together afterwards.

She chuckles into his collarbone. “Whatever happened to whispering terms of endearment into my ear?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve only whispered dirty things into your ear, so don’t get any ideas.”

She laughs again. He could live inside her laugh. “You’re right. Besides, those things are way more fun.”

“Agreed,” he exhales, his hand tracing her hip mindlessly. “I know I don’t really have any right to ask this…”

“Uh oh,” she intones, but sits up to look at him.

“Are you happy?”

Her mouth draws into a thin line for a moment as she considers. “Pretty happy, yeah,” she agrees. “How about you?”

He hesitates, realizing now the question is reversed just how tricky it is. After she ended things between them, he was a wreck for a few, long months. He’s much happier now, but is he happier than when they were together? Not by a long shot. “I guess so. About most things.” It’s not a lie, exactly.

*

In the light of day, her apartment looks different than he remembers. There is less clutter in the bathroom, like her makeup and products have been divided in half. Even the linen closet has been pared down, no longer an endless selection of fluffy towels or sheets with the highest thread count. He remembers the two of them stumbling over boxes the night before and when he walks out of the bathroom, buttoning his sleeves, he notices more boxes waiting to be packed. _What’s going on_ , he wants to ask, but seeing her in bed, silk robe flowing out from under her, she looks relaxed and it makes him reconsider his approach. He settles on, “Hi.”

“Good morning.” She meets his eyes, already an improvement from the last time they spent the night together.

“What’s with the boxes?” He knows the answer almost as soon as he asks it and feels stupid for not realizing sooner.  

“I’m looking for a new place,” she says easily.

“Why?”

“Just for a change.”

“A change to what?” He’s not really sure why he’s pressing her on this. Maybe because it throws him off every time she vacillates between being personal with him and being private, practically a stranger. He knows it’s her way of protecting herself and letting him know they aren’t yet back to the same level of trust they used to have, but it hurts him when she acts as if they’re unfamiliar with each other, like they’re getting to know each other again.

“A new place.” She says, not giving away anything, further frustrating him.

His eyes search hers. “Do you want to move in together?” He doesn’t suggest this because it’s a solution to her financial problem, but because he really wants her there. He wants her around all the time. He thinks about her all the time, whether they’re together or apart.

She thinks about it for a minute. “No,” she tells him simply.

“Why not?” This time it is ego, more than anything else, which makes him ask.

“It’s my problem.” He watches a wall come down. His hands slide along the silk of her robe as he leans in, kissing her. “I have to get to work,” she says softly when they break apart. She is able to draw the line so carefully between her personal and professional life and he understands why she does it.

“Diane...Let me help.” She’s made this life for herself for so long, made her own money, and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone else to do it for her. He understands this sense of accomplishment and pride and he admires her for her independence, but a tiny part of him feels it’s his responsibility to help. He is her husband, after all, even if it’s in name only these days.

“Kurt, last night was great, but I have to get to work.” It’s confusing, to say the least, when she suddenly puts up these walls. The other night, she confided in him about Provence, her plan to start her life over, and this morning, she acts almost as if they’ve never been married, as if they haven’t known each other for the last ten years of their lives. To him, it feels like last night was some form of progress and then she takes a step back, receding, and all of his hopes crumble at his feet.

At any other time in his life, he might have called her out on this, but now he knows it would only make her more reticent to trust him, to share things, and he doesn’t want to scare her away. In the past, he wouldn’t have been as patient. He would have walked away all together. But this is Diane. After everything they’ve been through, it turns out she is the one person he’s willing to wait for. As ashamed as he is about his actions, his faults, strangely it only made him realize how much he loved her and how much he wanted it to work. How much he would give up to be with her.

Everything. The answer is everything.  


	3. 1x10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I miss you,” she whispers, knowing this is different from the last two times they were together.
> 
> “I’m right here, Diane.”

_ Do you want to move in together? _

It’s been weeks and Diane has already moved into a smaller place, but she keeps thinking about Kurt’s offer. She knows she was right to say no, because they aren’t ready, but since then, she’s been wondering when they might be ready, what they need to work on, before they can get back to that point.

In the middle of talking to Maia, she remembers Kurt called earlier. If she can’t even remember to call him back, she chides herself, what hope do they have for making a relationship work?

It would be easy to blame work. As grateful as she is to have a job, she constantly feels like she’s being pulled into a million different directions and has started to wonder if she’s too old for this. So she’s only half listening when Marissa tells her someone is on the phone for her. It’s only when she says, “A nurse at Harbor” does the potential severity of the situation come crashing into full sound and color.

She hurriedly picks up the phone in her office. The background is noisy, making it hard to hear, and it sounds like the nurse is talking to doctors and other people as she speaks on the phone. The voice says something about next of kin to Kurt McVeigh. “Yes, I am,” Diane replies confidently, overcompensating in volume. “I’m his wife,” she repeats when she doesn’t get an immediate response. “What’s wrong? Hello?”

“I’m sorry. One second.” As she waits for the nurse to come back on the line, her eyes quickly fall closed, sending a thought to whatever higher power might be out there. 

“Oh my god, please, please.” 

She doesn’t realize she’s said these words out loud until she hears Marissa behind her. “What’s wrong?” But her heart is tight in her throat and she can’t bother to answer Marissa right now, instead continuing to pray as she waits for someone with answers to come back on the line. 

“ Sorry, ma’am,” the nurse finally returns. “We’re calling to inform you that your husband was in a car accident.”

“What happened? Where is he?” 

“Harbor Hospital Emergency Room. He’s going through surgery now.”

“How bad is it?” she asks quickly, not wanting to waste more time on the phone when she could be there.

Weaving her way through traffic, she tries not to think about the last time she was driving to the hospital, but she can’t stop thinking of Will. His brilliant mind and sharp wit. His moral center, a side of him not everyone saw, but was the reason they had such a strong partnership. On the big issues, they had the same sense of right and wrong, even if they might approach the law in different ways.

She thinks of Kurt, their ever-changing, ever complicated relationship, and wonders if they’ll ever be able to live in unison, instead of the separate, independent existences they seem to prefer. Despite that, she misses him. Misses having him in her life with some regularity, misses coming home to him, misses picking up the phone and hearing his voice on the other end. She wipes at her eyes and lays on the horn, desperately needing to get to him, if only the garbage truck in front of her would move.

Diane darts around a gurney as she steps off the elevator, rushing towards the nurses’ station.

“Uh, Kurt McVeigh, please.” Her voice is shaking. “I’m, uh, I’m his wife.” The nurse sitting there doesn’t match her sense of urgency, instead holding up a finger, signaling Diane will have to wait a minute. She’s tempted to reach over and shake the woman, but the nurse has already stepped away, so Diane starts to look around the busy ER on her own.

A privacy curtain blocks most of one sick bed, but Diane can see a man’s brogue sticking out and her head spins.  _ Will. _

She’s about to step towards the curtain just as a new nurse comes up beside her. “Mrs. McVeigh?” The nurse doesn’t stop walking and Diane follows her.

“Yes,” she replies.

“He’s out of the X-ray lab.”

“I’m sorry, they told me on the phone he was in surgery.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. There must have been a mix-up. He had some wounds that needed suturing, but no surgery. We got some x-rays and other images to make sure there wasn’t any internal bleeding from his injuries.”

Diane is relieved to hear there wasn’t any surgery involved after all, although the mention of internal bleeding isn’t soothing. “Is he okay?”

“He should be. The doctor just needs to run some tests, but he should be fine.”

“Well, what happened?”

“There was an incident with a car, some kind of car jacking.” Diane realizes they’ve been walking for a while and she’s still seen no sign of Kurt among the patients. The nurse gets pulled away and hoping Kurt is nearby, Diane starts to look around for him on her own. She sees a gray-haired man with a sheet pulled up to his neck, sleeping on his side, but when she approaches, she sees the man doesn’t have a mustache and most certainly is not Kurt.

As she’s getting ready to step away from the sleeping patient, she hears his voice. “Diane?” It’s soft and she wonders if she’s imagining it, but then she turns and sees him.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh my god.”

He struggles to sit up. “What are you doing here?”

Diane sits down on the plastic chair next to his bed, so thoroughly relieved to see him awake and functioning. “They called me,” she manages to say, in the midst of surveying him for bodily harm. “I’m, I’m your next of kin.”

“I told them not to. It’s nothing.” Kurt sweeps his legs out of bed and onto the floor.

She gets up out of her chair, putting her hands on his arms, but he’s strong and she struggles against him. “Where are you going?” she asks. “Get back into bed,” she tells him over his objections. “No, this is serious.” Finally, Kurt stops fighting her and slumps back onto the bed. “I mean, my god, what happened? You were carjacked?”

He keeps wincing and she isn’t sure if it’s the hospital lighting or the accident, but his face looks a little peaked. “No, somebody else,” he replies grumpily. “I was knocked down.” He starts to lay back, but then sits up suddenly again. Her hand grips his arm.

“Kurt!” She insists. “You’re not 20 years old anymore. Get back into bed.” He’s stubborn, but she’s never seen him quite this obstinate and wonders if whatever painkillers he’s on could be affecting his mood.

“Ahh,” he winces again, but waves her off, scooting back into bed.  

“You look so grumpy,” she says, her voice softer now.  

“I had to delay my whole day,” Kurt replies, clearly irritated, but also seemingly aware of how silly it sounds in the scheme of things.

“What were you calling about this morning?” She takes his hand in hers.  

“What was I calling about?” Kurt frowns at her.

“Yes. This morning,” she prompts.  

“I forget.”

She practically rolls her eyes at his obvious lie. “No, no,” she says calmly. “You didn’t.”

“I got hit in the head.” He gestures and her breath catches in her throat, all the adrenaline and emotion catching up with her. She knows she jumped to the worst conclusion because of Will, but she also knows she’s lucky, they’re both lucky, to be sitting here right now having this conversation. Yes, Kurt hurt her, but it suddenly seems so small in comparison to what could have happened. All the time they’ve spent apart, all the time they’ve wasted. She wants to be with him. All this time, she’s never  _ not _ wanted to be with him, but her pride and her hurt and her sadness stopped her.  

“Kurt,” she starts and already her eyes are filling with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not,” he says simply and she almost wants to laugh, but his eyes tell her how serious he is.

“Don’t do things that put you in the hospital, okay?” Her voice is high and strained and she reaches up to stroke his cheek

“Okay,” he says softly, reaching to rub her arm. She sniffles next to him, wishing she could crawl into the bed and curl up in the crook of his shoulder. She wants his arms wrapped around her, to rest her nose against his neck and breathe him in. Her phone pings, breaking both of them out of their reverie.

“Oh god. Sorry,” Diane sighs. She reads the text message, barely comprehending it, before reading it again. _ Yes, please, let’s have one more thing go wrong. _ “I mean, it just never stops,” she sighs, frustrated. This is where she needs to be, but she’s never been someone who can ignore her other obligations.

“You have to go?” Kurt asks wearily.

“I do. The nurse said the doctors have to do some tests before you can leave.” Kurt pulls a face. “Hey, please do them all for me,” she tells him softly and he acts chastened, agreeing. She brushes her fingers through his hair, a gesture to soothe him, but also allows her to stay a moment longer, studying his face. His brown eyes catch hers and she smiles, kissing his cheek. “Call me and I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

She straightens and is picking up her purse when he catches her hand.  “Hey. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she shakes her head. “I’m glad they called me. I’m sorry I have to go. The feds took Lucca into custody and I have no idea why.”

“Yeah, of course. Go, go.” He encourages her.

“Listen to the doctors, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” He nods. “I love you.”

The admittance catches him off guard. “I-” He starts but she’s already gone.

Diane doesn’t even realize what she’s sad until she’s on the elevator. Standing in the corner, she curls in on herself as much as she can, so other people won’t see her crying. Getting into her car, she breaks down again. It’s selfish, but she keeps imagining herself alone. She’s spent most of her life alone, and she realizes it’s not simply the idea of being alone, but losing him. How she might never hear him say her name again or feel his hands on her waist or watch him cook.

She would much rather walk back into the hospital and sit by Kurt’s side all day than face whatever is happening at work. Kurt feels more important right now. He  _ is _ more important right now, but instead she texts Maia and asks where should she meet her.

*

Walking back into work is like entering a three ring circus. Diane’s not sure if she’s the tightrope walker, the fire eater, or the guy who sticks his head into the lion’s mouth, so when Marissa asks if she got in touch with Kurt, it throws her.

“No,” she says at first, then quickly corrects herself. “I mean, yes. Why?”

“Did you see him on YouTube?” It hasn’t escaped her notice that Marissa is savvier than she wants to admit about the Internet and she wonders if Marissa has somehow come across the same video Kalinda found when Diane was up for her judgeship.

“No,” she replies cautiously. “What do you mean?

“Very sexy video.” Now Diane knows Marissa is talking about something different. There’s no way Marissa would call a pro-life video sexy. “You should look it up.”

“All right.” Diane is still a little hesitant, but when she types in Kurt’s name to YouTube, she isn’t able to quickly find it, so she asks Marissa if she remembers the name of it.

“No,” Marissa tells her. “But I’ll send you the link.”

“Thank you.” Diane’s email inbox pings a moment later. She glances out at Marissa, but she’s already busy conferring with Jay about something else. Diane quickly opens the link, hoping she can watch it before Marissa interrupts with a million questions about the video or simply more pressing business.

The video is obviously security camera of a parking lot. In the corner, there’s a woman putting her baby in a car seat in the back of her vehicle. Just as she shuts the back door and starts to open hers, a man with a gun comes up to her and pushes the woman away from the car.

“Oh my god,” Diane hears herself murmur, half enthralled and half confused as to what this has to do with Kurt. The man pulls the car forward out of the space, but has to stop and back up to get around another vehicle. As the car is about to pull off again, a figure runs towards the driver’s side of the vehicle and jumps on, somehow clinging on to the car even as it starts to move. Diane can tell the carjacker is trying to hit or knock the person off with his fist, but it doesn’t seem to matter, the person keeps hanging off, even as the car pulls off dangerously.

She knows who the figure is, of course. Even in the poor quality grayscale of the security camera, she recognized his hair. But she can’t quite get her mind to comprehend what he’s doing. He’s trying to save the woman’s baby. He’s clinging on to the side of the car, probably getting pummeled in the face, but not letting go.

A new video starts to load in its place, but she clicks replay. She watches it again and a third time, holding her breath. Her heart surges every time Kurt races into the frame and her stomach drops every time the car accelerates out of the parking lot, Kurt still clinging to the door. For the second time that day, she understands how incredibly lucky he was. He could have been thrown from the car, he could have been shot.

Diane hopes she can make it the rest of the day without discussing the video with Marissa, but the next time she and Marissa have a moment alone, she brings it up. “So did you watch the video?”

“I did, yes.” She sounds much calmer than she feels.

Marissa frowns, clearly not the reaction she was expecting. “Kurt is okay, isn’t he?”

“Yes, luckily. Just battered and bruised, but nothing serious. I’m going to pick him up later.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Marissa leans forward and lowers her voice, “Tell him the video is hot.”

That, at least, makes Diane laugh in the middle of this shit day. “Thank you, Marissa. I’ll be sure to relay the message.”

Later, as she and Adrian are looking out over the darkened city, her phone rings. “It’s my husband,” she says to him and picks up the phone. “Hi.”

“Hey. Are you still at work?”

“Yes. Adrian and I were getting ready to leave.”

“Do you want me to come to you? There might be rioting or looters downtown.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even considered that.”

“I thought we might drive out to my place tonight. Get out of the city.”

Diane notices his use of we. “Yeah, maybe. Can we talk about it when I get there?”

“Of course. So how are you getting home?” Adrian is gesturing to himself and she nods at him.

“Adrian is going to come with me. He can get a car from there.”

“All right. Tell him thanks.”

Diane chuckles, shaking her head at the two men worrying over her safety. “I will. See you soon.”

* 

The blackout is still in effect when Diane pulls up in front of her building. Her neighborhood is quieter than most, but it was hell trying to get through downtown. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asks Adrian. “I can drop you somewhere. I just have to collect my husband.” It feels awkward coming out of her mouth, but she refers to Kurt as her husband at the firm, because anything else is too complicated. 

“Nah, I’m good, Diane. Thank you.” Adrian pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. “Calling a car now.”

“Thanks for the drink,” she tells him jovially. 

He chuckles. “Have a good weekend.” 

“You too. See you Monday.” 

After dealing with the chaos of the city in a blackout, Diane wants to tell Kurt he was right. They should go out to his place. A weekend in the quiet country air sounds perfect, but she knows she shouldn’t go spend a weekend in the country with her nearly ex-husband. 

When she showed up at his speech, a tiny part of her knew exactly where they would go at the end of the evening. His offer to move in together brought her back down to earth. She was aware of the myriad of issues in their relationship, number one being they had always used physical intimacy as a salve for their lack of communication. Sex was a way of communicating, she knew, but often it wasn’t the kind of communication they really needed. The idea of them living together as a solution to her financial problems wouldn’t fix any other part of their relationship. If anything, it would exacerbate their issues. Instead of talking, they’d have sex, and the next day, the problem would still be there. Rinse, lather, repeat. 

*    


On the drive out to his place, she finds herself thinking about the video again. The idea of Kurt being a hero isn’t surprising. He’s been her hero countless times over, but Diane is still having a hard time comprehending it. He saw a terrible event unfolding in front of him and his response was to act, not react. The presence of mind that takes is beyond her capabilities. 

“So, you’re a hero?” She finally says. “I saw it. The video.”

“Let’s not,” he replies in a slightly irritated tone. 

“What?” Diane is surprised at his reaction. “I was talking to you like you were eight years old and you’re Sully or something.”

“Diane, please.” He says, his tone softer. “I don’t like it when people make a big deal.”

She knew that was true. Kurt hated being the center of attention. When he became the semi-resident ballistics expert for Lockhart Gardner, Will was always trying to take him out for a drink or a fancy dinner to thank him and Kurt always avoided his calls. “Of course. I represent unscrupulous people. And you, you save children.” She was thankful for her job, but it wasn’t all Adrian had promised it would be. It certainly wasn’t the same as working for the ACLU or any other number of non-profits who so desperately needed lawyers or legal representation during the current climate.

Kurt’s hand finds her shoulder, his fingers brushing at her hair. “I was calling to ask you to dinner.” She smiles, in spite of everything. 

“ Are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asks as they pull up in front of his house and get out of the car.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Come in. Stay the night. Don’t drive back to the city.” Kurt’s eyes are on her. “I love you.”

The logical part of her loses out to the emotional part of her when he looks at her like that. It’s not fair. “I was so hurt,” she manages to tell him, trying to let Kurt know there’s going to be more work to do to fix this, to fix them. 

“I know. It won’t happen again.” She wants to believe him. She does believe him. “Stay. I’ll light a fire.”

She reaches out and puts a hand on his chest for a brief moment before walking back to the car. She turns the key in the ignition, the lights turning off. Kurt looks back at her and even in the semi-darkness, she can tell he’s surprised by her decision. When she walks back to him, he reaches out a hand. 

Diane is a bit trepidatious about being back at his place after all this time. She expects it to be or feel different even though she knows it won’t be. Kurt is perfectly at ease, much like he was the first time she drove all the way out here and he showed her the lab. She stands in the middle of the living room, watching him build a fire. 

“Can I help?” she asks, realizing this man tried to stop a carjacking less than 12 hours ago and now he is crouched down in front of the fireplace. 

“You can relax. Take off your coat. There’s beer in the fridge. Or scotch in the cabinet.” She does as she’s told, hanging her coat in the entryway and then wandering into the kitchen. 

When she comes back to the living room, two glasses in hand, she finds him on the couch, the fire slowly starting to build. She settles next to him on the couch, but he must sense her anxiety because he puts a gentle hand on her knee. “Are you okay?” 

“I should be asking you that,” she murmurs, downing the rest of her scotch in one swift gulp, letting the alcohol burn her throat. 

“I feel fine.” She lets herself slowly relax, The scotch loosens the tension in her chest and she lets herself slowly relax. Kurt puts an arm around her and she rests her head against his shoulder, both of them watching the fire.    


When his hand starts to rub soothing circles at her hip, her breath hitches in her chest. Diane lifts her head, meeting his gaze, before he cups her face in his hands, kissing her softly. She doesn’t hesitate, pulling him back towards her for another kiss, grasping the soft fabric of his shirt in her fist. She can’t be sure but thinks he winces against her and only then does she remember his injuries. “Are you sure you’re-”

He cuts her off. “I’m fine. I’ll be a little sore tomorrow. But I got you all the way out here, so if you think I’m just going to sit here and look at you, well-” Diane laughs.

“I wasn’t suggesting abstinence,” she supplies with a quirk of her eyebrow. “Just wondered how you were feeling.”

“You’re driving me crazy, that’s how I’m feeling.”

“I’m not doing anything!” She protests, even though she is a willing participant.

“That’s the problem. C’mere.” He tugs her into his lap, letting out a grunt as she brushes up against the bruises on his ribs.

“See? You’re going to hurt yourself.” She mocks but she traces his face carefully, her touch extra gentle as she fingers the gash on his face that needed stitches. She places a kiss underneath his wound and feathers kisses along his jaw, her breath hot against his ear. “I miss you,” she whispers, knowing this is different from the last two times they were together. 

“I’m right here, Diane.” He reaches up, brushing her hair out of her face, her blue eyes focusing on him before he pulls her towards him, kissing her. She relaxes against him and returns the kiss, his scruff already stinging her cheeks, but she doesn’t care.

* 

Diane softly traces the bruises across his chest and ribcage. Kurt’s eyelids flutter closed at her touch. “So what if I wasn’t your next of kin? Would you have told me about this? Or would I have to find out by watching that video?” He doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Kurt?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me in your life anymore.” It’s a ridiculous thing to say, considering she’s currently sitting in his bed, but he truly is lost as to where they stand. One week she’s saying she wants a divorce, the next week they’re in bed together, the next week she won’t call him back. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. You said the door was closed between us. You don’t want to move in together.” 

“Moving in together wouldn’t fix anything-” she starts to explain, but he cuts her off.

“You were going to move to France, Diane.” There’s no accusation, instead it’s a simple statement of defeat.

“I was going to tell you!”

“Yeah, when?” She’s quiet. He sighs in frustration. “You were only going to tell me after you bought the house. I couldn’t have stopped you at that point.” She doesn’t say anything, just picks up the robe flung across the foot of the bed, threading her arms through the sleeves, before throwing back the covers and standing, the soft fabric falling around her body. “Where are you going?”

It’s his robe and it’s huge on her, but she ties the belt tightly in a knot, her hands shaking from anger. “Back to the city. You don’t want me here anyway.”

“Diane-” he starts to object but she cuts him off with a look. She stalks out of the bedroom and he hears her footsteps on the stairs. “Shit,” he whispers under his breath, throwing the covers off and pulling on clothes, practically tripping over his boots on the landing. He finds her in the living room in front of the dying fire, hunched over as she hunts around for various items of clothing. “It’s late. You shouldn’t drive back tonight. It’s dangerous.”

“I can’t stay here.” She looks up at him, the piece of hair falling in her eyes not making her gaze any less steely. She straightens up, tosses her hair out of her face, and slips on her shoes as if he isn’t standing there.

“Just say it,” he says flatly. He’s been expecting it.  

“If you wanted me to be a part of your life, you shouldn’t have slept with her.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to make it up to you. I’ve apologized. I’ve made grand gestures, haven’t I?” She swallows, then nods. “So what else do you want from me? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?”

There’s a look on her face he doesn’t recognize. Maybe half pain and half pleasure? Love? Confusion? When she finally speaks, it’s a whisper. “I never told you about France because I couldn’t talk to you. It physically pained me.” Tears are welling up in her eyes. “Every time I heard your voice, my heart felt as if it was being twisted in a vise.” He takes a tentative step towards her, then another, then he’s standing in front of her, the heat from their bodies mixing together, always an intoxicating feeling. He starts to drop to his knees, but Diane stops him. Slowly, softly she runs a hand through his hair. “You never stopped loving me.”

It’s not a question but he gives her an answer anyway. “No, I didn’t.”

“But I did. I stopped loving you.” There’s an intense pressure in his chest and he considers he may be having a heart attack, but then the pressure moves deeper into his body, a growing pit in his stomach, snaking his way down his legs, burning between his toes.

“Makes sense,” his breath is hurried from trying to catch it. “You had no reason to trust me.”

“No, it wasn’t you I didn’t trust. I stopped trusting myself.” She steps away from him then and walks over to the couch, leaning against it as she crosses her arms over her chest.

They’ve never really talked about this. Diane hadn’t wanted to hear, it hurt too much, and then time passed and she didn’t feel like she could ask. “What do you want to know?”

“What was it about her…did she offer something I didn’t?” She can’t quite meet his eye as she asks, but it’s the answer she’s afraid of, not the question. Holly was busty and curvy where she was tall and thin. Holly was basically Marilyn Monroe and what red-blooded American man didn’t want to sleep with Marilyn Monroe? “I mean, I know she’s young and I’m certainly not 30 anymore.”

“Stop. Are you kidding me?” He’s incredulous, but she looks confused. God, does she really not know after all this time? “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He lets that sink in. A blush creeps into her cheeks. “It didn’t have anything to do with age or beauty. It had everything to do with me. I was lonely and weak and-“

“Was it because she’s conservative?”

“What!?” Kurt exclaims, truly astonished. “Of course not!”

“It’s not so crazy. Marriages break up over politics.”

“Then those people had other problems than just their politics. Your politics were one of the first things that attracted me to you, Diane.”

She chuckles. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It was,” he insists. “You knew your own beliefs and you didn’t apologize for them. If I recall correctly, they almost stopped you from being with me.”

She nods slightly and from the far away look in her eyes, he knows she’s remembering. “If I’d listened, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Do you regret that decision?”

He expects her to hesitate, but she replies quickly, “No, I don’t.”

“So even if we were going to end up back in the exact same place, knowing that, you would still pick me?” He lets her consider it, not pushing for an answer. She turns towards the fireplace, in profile to him, and says something so softly he can’t hear. “What?”

She speaks up this time. “Yes.” Her body curves inward and he knows she’s crying. He takes a deep breath, approaching her. His hands land tentatively at her waist, but he expects her to pull away. She sucks in a breath and tries to quell her emotion, but her body quakes softly under him with the effort. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into her neck. Dropping a careful kiss at the curve of her neck beneath her earlobe, the artery there throbbing with the pulse of her heart, he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t move his hands, just stays there with her through her grief.

“I’m a mess,” she sniffles.

“I love you,” he murmurs. He’s never sure if he said it enough when they were actually together. 

She turns in his arms and meets his eyes. “I know,” she replies, her voice grateful and full of emotion. “You’ve been so patient with me.” He senses there’s a but at the end of the sentence. “But I’m not ready to say it yet. And hearing you say it, it’s lovely, but it makes me feel bad.” 

“You said it today,” he reminds her as he rubs her shoulders gently. 

“Yes,” she admits. “You were hurt. And it was true, but…” 

“It’s okay,” he cuts her off, understanding. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.” 

She presses into him, her cheek sliding against his as she rests her face into the crook of his shoulder for a long moment. He’s afraid to say anything, not wanting to break the spell. When she pulls away, he watches her carefully, reaching forward to tuck a piece of her hair back into place. Her eyes fall closed and he leans towards her, planting a kiss on her forehead. There’s still fear in her eyes. Kurt is only starting to understand how deeply he hurt her. He wants to wrap her in his arms and somehow wash away all the hurt between them. 

* 

“Why did you come back that night? Our first date?” His voice is low in her ear, but he pulls away so he can watch her answer. 

“Because I wanted you.” His hand starts to trace a path up her thigh and she sucks in a breath. 

“Do you want me now?” He stops his movement, his eyes dark with desire. 

“Yes,” she gasps hurriedly, wanting him to resume his touch. 

As much as Diane likes being in charge, in both her professional and personal life, when Kurt takes the lead, it’s incredibly sexy. “Good.” He smirks at her knowing she’s already giving herself over to him even though he’s barely touched her. His fingers start to inch up her leg again and she sucks in a breath. 

Her head falls back and she closes her eyes, but Kurt removes his hand. Her eyes fly open at the loss of contact. “Uh uh,” he tells her. “Eyes on me.” She nods, biting her lip. He continues his slow path up her leg, her nearly writhing beneath him. She tries to watch his hand, but his gaze is like a magnet and she can’t tear her eyes away from his.    


When he touches her, she expects him to make a noise or say something, but he doesn’t, his gaze not dropping from hers. Her breath grows unsteady as he pushes his fingers inside her. She’s slick against him and she cries out, her eyelids fluttering but not closing all the way. He pushes into her again, the friction almost too much for her. “Kurt…” she moans, her hips arching towards him. His other hand rests behind her knee and he moves it, pressing into her hip now, holding her in place. 

His fingers continue to rub against her as he slowly lowers himself between her legs. “God,” she intones, a prickling heat flooding her stomach in anticipation. 

“I want to hear you,” he instructs and her blue eyes go wide with pleasure and surprise. She licks her lips unconsciously. 

When his mouth meets her, only then does he withdraw his fingers. Her hips buck and thighs twitch and she lets out a low, guttural moan. His hand presses her firmly back against the mattress. He loves seeing her from this angle, watching her let go. 

Her hand finds his on her hip and she tries to tangle her fingers with his to have something to grip onto. He uncurls a finger or two and she intertwines hers, head falling back as she lets out another cry. 

He’s barely started but he can tell by her breathy moans and the way her legs tense on either side of him that she’s close. “Oh, fuck,” she exclaims just before and he smiles against her, continuing as the waves travel through her body. He lets his grip on her hip go so she can let the pleasure course through her. Her cries become higher pitched, more animal, and she curls towards him, her hands landing in his hair, trying to tug him away, but he doesn’t move, intending to coax the last breaths out of her. 

When her hips arch again and she curses, only then does he stop, replacing his mouth with his fingers, caressing her as she rides it out. “Oh, god,” she says, nearly breathless. He drops kisses on her inner thighs and draws himself up to kiss her. She mumbles something against him but he doesn’t draw back, instead slipping his tongue into her mouth. Diane kisses him back hungrily. 

He is throbbing against her thigh and even though she’s barely recovered, she reaches for him. But Kurt stops her, pulling away. Her eyes flash with hurt. “What?” 

“I can wait,” he tells her softly. “Tonight is about you.” If she wasn’t already flushed from multiple orgasms, Kurt’s comment would have dusted her cheeks, neck, and chest a shade of rose. As proof, he slowly unties the belt on the robe, drawing it back slowly, and tracing his hand up her stomach. He slides his fingers gently across her ribcage, his thumb drawing a careful arc along the underside of her breast, before he finally leans forward and kisses her again. 

They stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a few minutes, her lips teasing his, him nipping at her ear or trailing his mouth down her neck, until Diane can’t stand it anymore. “Kurt.” Her voice is low and throaty. He would do almost anything for her when she sounds like that. “I want to touch you.” 

It wasn’t part of his plan but he can’t resist her. He nods and rather than tease him like he did her, she slips down his boxers and takes him in her hand. The simplicity of her touch makes him moan. She deftly strokes him and Kurt closes his eyes against the sensation, nearly falling headlong into it before realizing he needs to regain control. “No,” he says suddenly, eyes opening. Diane is looking back at him with half-lidded desire and he slides a hand under her leg, lifting it so it’s wrapped around his hip. She complies, lifting her other leg, and gives him a little nod before he pushes into her, only half aware the groan of pleasure he hears is his own. 

*

Afterwards, he draws her close until she’s tucked alongside him, her head on his chest as he runs his fingers gently through her hair. “You didn’t have to do that. I like giving too.” 

His eyebrows raise. He’s well aware. “I know, but words have never been our strong suit, so I thought if I showed you how much-”

She places a hand on his chest, over his heart, silencing him. “I believe you, Kurt. It doesn’t change the fact that I have to work through my own feelings about it, but I do believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t say that sooner.” 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, his fingers tracing her cheek. “Okay, I’m declaring a moratorium on apologies.” 

“Oh, and did I tell you you’re amazing?” She winks at him. As if it weren’t obvious by now.

He chuckles. “I gathered that.”   


End file.
